


The Junk Room

by OmoYasha



Series: Omovember 2020 [6]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Omorashi, Urination
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:08:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OmoYasha/pseuds/OmoYasha
Summary: Omovember Day 8: using a training pottyIn retrospect, there was probably a reason Papyrus had left a rock where it could easily be used as a doorstop.
Relationships: Papyrus & Sans (Undertale)
Series: Omovember 2020 [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1998742
Comments: 19
Kudos: 22





	The Junk Room

**Author's Note:**

> It's a pee fic - it is about pee. Be aware of this before reading, OK?

In retrospect, there was probably a reason Papyrus had left a rock where it could easily be used as a doorstop. 

Also in retrospect, he was pretty sure he’d heard his brother complaining at length about how shutting yourself in closets was only fun when you did it on purpose, and he _definitely_ should have dug into that one a little further. Or at least, you know, casually asked about it before he went digging through the overly large storage closet in the back of their new house on the surface.

At five in the morning.

While Papyrus was out running.

Yeah, he definitely could’ve thought this one through a little better.

It had taken him a while to notice – he’d gone in there looking for some old research notes Alphys asked about in one of their recently reinstated science hangouts. And while he definitely had them somewhere, it was a big storage room, and there were a lot of old, unlabeled boxes to dig through. (Papyrus was a firm believer in labels, but Papyrus had also not done most of the packing for their move. Sans was a firm believer in shoving things in boxes, and letting the details be a problem for future-him. Which was probably why he packed so much faster. But also why he had to spend an hour digging through broken kitchenware and old clothes whenever he needed to, say, find his old lab notes for a friend.)

So when he finally noticed, it was when he wandered over to the door yawning, lab notes in hand, ready to grab a snack and roll back into bed – or at least the sofa, he hadn’t quite decided.

He grabbed the doorknob…. and it didn’t move. He stared at it sleepily, tried again.

Nope.

Locked. Okay. Well, he couldn’t take a shortcut out – not only was he tired, but using them on the surface was just… hard. He’d had his whole life to learn all the ins and outs of the underground, how every spot related to another, which places were easiest to cut between. They’d only lived here for like, two months or something. And despite a lot of people’s assumptions, the background knowledge _was_ important. Right now, he could pop between the main rooms of the house – his, Papyrus’s, living room, kitchen. He could take a shortcut anyplace he could fully see, too. Anything else was a real stretch.

It wasn’t a big deal. If he called Papyrus, his brother would happily – or, well, willingly, he’d probably be pretty annoyed – come get him out.

He dug out his phone….

…and stared at a dark, unresponsive screen. 

He must have forgotten to charge it. 

Well.

It’s not really _convenient_ – he’s a little hungry and he’d kinda meant to drop by the bathroom on his way to bed. But there’s not much he can do here – even shouting. His voice just doesn’t carry well enough. They used this storeroom pretty often – eventually, someone would come by to dig something out, and he’d be able to leave. Until then?

Well, he’d slept in _much_ weirder places than a cardboard box full of old clothes and blankets. Might as well get that nap in while he could, right?

He woke up suddenly, to a vague and pervasive sense of unease that had him laying very still for a moment, staring at the unpainted wall with wide, dark eye sockets until he placed exactly where he was. Wow, he just _loved_ getting woken up by an unnecessary sense of impending doom. The room was still lit, he was still alone; nothing had changed. Or at least nothing worth panicking over – he _did_ really have to pee, now.

That… wasn’t really great.

Sans didn’t have to go to the bathroom very often, considering he was always eating – probably because he ate constant snacks to replenish his minimal magic pool as it burned away, rather than eating a lot at once. His soul just didn’t generate much magic on its own, unless he really pushed it… and that came with about a million drawbacks, but this was one of the rare perks.

But when he did have to go, it was something with, uh, a distinct time limit.

Unlike Papyrus (who could hold it for ages, but somehow _still_ always needed to go at the _worst times_ ), when _Sans_ had to visit the porcelain throne, it wasn’t really something he could put off very long. He just couldn’t hold it that long, and yeah that was a little embarrassing, but it wasn’t like he was shy about bailing out of things for any reason.

Having to take a leak right now? That’s some pretty bad timing there, buddy.

…but there’s not really much he can do about it, and the logic from before still stands. Someone will come along sooner or later; he just kinda hoped it’d sooner rather than later, this time.

Sitting around a storage room is _boring_ , and he was actually feeling pretty wide awake for once – might as well ride that out however long it lasted. There must be _something_ interesting he can do while he waits.

His gaze landed on his beat up folder of lab notes, left waiting by the door. Alphys wanted his notes. He was going to send her his notes. And _sure_ , he could send her _just_ his notes, but where was the fun in that?

He glanced around the room, his smile growing wider. He was pretty sure that _somewhere_ around here, he had a few pages of really, _offensively_ awful Mew Mew Kissy Cutie and Mew Mew 2 crossover fanfiction that he had saved for exactly such an occasion.

Might as well, right?

It was an effective distraction, and his efforts did pay off – he triumphantly emerged from behind their old sofa (why did they still have it? Who knew! Definitely not Sans) with a scruffy envelope labelled “french fry grease”. He slid the papers out, scanned them. He grinned. It was just as badly written and physiologically improbable as he remembered. Alphys would _hate_ it.

 _Perfect_.

By the time he had finished carefully sneaking pages of the fanfic in between the actual research notes (which were helpfully labelled “pictures of slime”), he was very happy with the prank.

He also _really_ had to go.

If someone could come by and open that door any time now, that would be great.

…which was why it probably wasn’t going to happen, was it?

His soul throbbed unpleasantly, and he knew if he bothered looking, he would see its dim, chalky glow in his chest.

He didn’t bother; he’d never really liked looking at his soul. And he didn’t need to – he could feel its state from the heaviness, the way his bones ached worse than usual. The slight crawling sensation that it sent shivering through his bones.

His soul had too much unusable magic, and that meant he needed to go to the bathroom. _Badly_.

With nothing to distract him, he stopped, and raced through the options in his mind.

He could just wait, and hope someone would show up soon enough to let him out. But he’d kind of been trying that one already, and it wasn’t exactly looking promising. To be honest, it sounded like a recipe for getting stuck waiting down here indefinitely _with wet pants_ , which… no thanks.

Maybe… maybe there was something he could use down here? It was a storage room, after all. There had to be some kind of container.

Trying to ignore the heaviness of his excess magic, Sans returned to rummaging, sorting through the items around him.

A pile of old blankets (no), a slightly bunged up colander ( _nope_ ), a Gyftmas cookie tin he knew for a fact his brother still used every year (no thanks), a singed pot with a hole in the bottom (why was that even in here?). He groaned, gripping his still summoned soul with one hand.

How was it this difficult to find something he could pee in, in an entire storeroom full of old junk?

Getting nervous now, he took one more look around – and saw a glimpse of red, tucked in the corner behind a box. Curious, Sans tugged it out, and set it on the floor.

…it was a training potty. One that he was intimately familiar with, actually – it was the same training potty Papyrus had used as a babybones, faded red plastic still decorated with stickers of bunnies and hearts. They still had that? He stared at the object.

He hadn’t seen that thing in ages.

It had been a regular fixture in their house, at one time… back when they’d very first moved to Snowdin. He remembered finding the thing in the dump, decorating it for his brother. Coaxing and encouraging him to use it. Eventually putting it away when no longer needed.

He’d kind of assumed it had gotten thrown out, at some point in the intervening years (even though he could never bear to throw out any of his brother’s few remaining baby-things himself). But apparently, it… hadn’t.

It would be weird, right? Using a training potty? Using the same training potty he’d used for his baby _brother_?

He winced at as a jolt of discomfort twinged through him.

…on the other hand, pissing himself would be pretty bad too. At least the chair was _intended_ to hold bodily fluids.

And… really, he’d rather just get it over with.

Decision made, he made sure the potty was sitting firmly on a clear, level section of the floor. Was there some kind of trick to this? He didn’t think so. He had no memory of being young enough to use anything like that – but from what he remembered of his experiences with Papyrus, it was pretty simple. Sit and go, just like a toilet – just intended for a smaller occupant.

Fortunately, Pap had been a pretty tall kid even then. He’d been up to Sans’s shoulder by the time he quite needing the thing – it should be fine. Sans blessed his own abnormally short height (or at least, he assumed it wasn’t normal – not like he had much to compare to) for coming in handy this time.

Better just go for it, then.

He pulled his pants down, and quickly sat on the potty chair. Even as short as he was, he was definitely a little bit out of the intended size range – he had to position himself carefully so it wouldn’t tip over. And the plastic curves felt distinctly different than any kind of toilet he’d used in the past.

But he was pretty desperate, here. He spared a moment to think about how strange this situation must look. Whelp. Hopefully nobody would come in during the next minute or so, because that would be pretty awkward even for him.

But nobody had come for this long, so it seemed pretty unlikely.

He relaxed as much as possible, and just… let go, sighing at the wonderful, almost euphoric feeling of relief as he used the pot. He groaned – that already felt _so much better_. Lost in the sensation, he barely noticed the things around him; barely heard the splashing sound of urine hitting the plastic.

He _did_ notice when the storage room door burst open with a loud creak and a shout of “SANS! HAVE YOU SEEN THE-“

Papyrus cut off mid-sentence, freezing as he made eye contact with Sans’s wide (slightly panicked) eye sockets. As Sans sat half naked in their storage closet, pissing in a child’s potty chair. Sans blushed so hard he felt certain his cheekbones were vivid blue.

There was a moment of silence while they both stayed very still, just staring at each other.

Papyrus recovered first, covering his mouth with a gloved fist and clearing his throat.

“…ACTUALLY, ON SECOND THOUGHT, THAT THING I NEEDED YOU FOR CAN WAIT UNTIL LATER. I DO NOT KNOW WHAT YOU ARE DOING IN HERE, BUT I AM GOING TO LEAVE NOW AND PRETEND THAT I NEVER SAW THIS, THANKS!”

Before Sans could say anything, he fled just as quickly as he came, door slamming closed behind him.

….the locked door.

Whelp.

_Shit._

**Author's Note:**

> Well I'm not sure how I feel about this one - Sans is hard for me to write! But somehow, he seemed like the perfect fit for this prompt.


End file.
